The trees around rustle with slight movements from creatures unseen.
All about him is darkness; the trees lining the broken path are only visible with the dull glow of the moon. Behind them is darkness and the sounds of the night.
He walks briskly past a clearing by the path, where the trees give way to a patch of long grass.
He looks up; paranoia grips his heart and pulls his nerves taut.
Nothing there but strands of grass, swaying in the sudden slight breeze which whispers past his ears.
He looks forward again, every noise and movement in the corner of his eye causing his nerves to jolt like the strings of a guitar when pulled.
The moon sinks into a sinister black cloud, its form illuminated by the glow.
He flicks his glance once again to the clearing he has almost passed by, and his heart stops dead.
A figure there, standing there, in the long grass. Just close enough to see in the gathering shadows, but far enough to be a part of them. Its head is bowed down, hooded. Its hands hang by its sides. It does not look up.
The walking man breathes shallow and quick, trying to be silent. His heart starts hammering again, hammering to escape the confines of the cage in his chest, to escape the night.
His vision blurs for a moment, and everything blends into one patch of darkness. He is consumed by terror. The moon is regurgitated from the cloud that swallowed it and his vision comes back. The figure is gone from the clearing.
A shudder throughout the man's body. He walks faster.>
Reply
